


Icarus

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-21
Updated: 2000-09-21
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser is having some feelings he isn't ready to handle. His avoidance of them leads to unforeseen consequences.





	Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Icarus

## Icarus

by Cipher Muse

Author's webpage: http://none yet

* * *

TITLE: Icarus 1/3  
AUTHOR: Cipher Muse  
**RATING: NC-17**  
EMAIL/FEEDBACK: / Please. All I can get. SPOILERS: None  
WARNING: Includes themes of m/m eroticism. If this bothers you, don't read this story. KEYWORDS: f/m, eventually F/K DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me, I only rent them for free to perform these dazzling tricks. Don't sue me please. SUMMARY: Reflections, a bad event, feelings are hurt. But something is already past the point of No Return for our boys... Authors Notes: I am so inspired by Te. Te, I've never spoken to you, but you live in my heart. Everyone, this is my first ever attempt at slash fiction. Please be gentle with me. 

8/15/00  
Icarus 

Ray is golden. Yellow all over, spiky hair, gold-toned skin, sparking eyes (especially when he's being rude). Today he is wearing blue jeans, a light blue T-shirt and his feet are up on the desk. All that blue and gold together reminds Ben of the sky in the Yukon when the sun doesn't want to sleep any more than the restless, golden Kowalski. Right now Ray is using foul language to describe something, and his eyes are sparking yellow amidst their clear blue color. He looks happy. Something in the insolent stretch of his legs over the space between the chair (tilted back) and the desk makes Benton Fraser's throat ache and his hands tense and sweaty. Looking away and back again he sees the golden hollow of Ray's throat vibrate with his offensive commentary and he wants to taste for evidence of something there but he's not sure what. 

"...Fraser... Earth to Fraser... come in Benton." 

Uh-oh Ray is speaking to him now. He is staring at his own wrist and he notes that his own skin is white and pink and blue where the new blood flows so visibly. 

Ray is golden and he's thin and hard. His torso and his limbs are long and rangy, wild. I want something from him, thinks Benton Fraser, RCMP. Ray is tight, he is taut, nervous. He spins off sparks when he moves. I want to feel the shock from them. 

He is dizzy. He looks down into the face of his friend, his partner, and he watches the red mouth moving but cannot hear a word for the humming in his ears and the thrumming of his blood. He sees that Ray is an animal, free and rough and someone will eventually try to tame him. 

I want, he thinks, that person to be me. 

Ray is looking very concerned now and when he puts his hand up to Fraser's forehead Fraser's shivering worries him even more. 

**XXXXXXXX**

I wonder if Ray is as beautiful to other people as he is to me. I used to think I knew, but now I realize my judgement is not completely accurate. It never has been, about him, not since the first time I saw him. He is doing something to me, something that scares me very badly. I have never felt this way before. He's my friend, my good friend. I love him as a friend, like I loved my first Ray. But there are these other moments, and it reminds me of Victoria, and desperation. I am afraid of this, of where it is leading. 

I need to talk to someone, someone who understands about how beautiful Ray is and can tell me how to breath when he is talking to me, all excited and flushed. It is very important I learn to control this... thing because Ray needs me to keep a cool head at all times. I can't fail him. 

My father has been conspicuous by his absence on this matter. I will go talk to Ray's ex-wife, Stella. She might understand. It is hard to see how she could leave him, but maybe she was overwhelmed by all that gold, too. 

**XXXXXXXX**

Stella is home when Benton Fraser comes to the door. The evening is closing down toward night, and he is tired. He has just come back from a raid on a home where a man held his five-year-old daughter hostage after shooting his wife. His back is straight though, and his hair waves smoothly back from his face as he stands in the hallway outside her apartment. When she opens the door, she smiles warmly and it is somewhat comforting. She seems a little surprised when he tells her he would like to talk with her, but nods. Stella leads him inside, and as she walks before him, he notices that she is golden all over, too, like Kowalski. But tanned gold, instead of pale winter yellow. 

**XXXXXXXX**

I never think about fucking Fraser. I mean, I think about Fraser, yeah. I just never think about FUCKING Fraser. Honestly. I do sometimes think about not thinking about fucking Fraser. OK, this is getting needlessly complex. OK, the point is, he's like the Holy friggin' Grail to me or something. I don't wanna spoil the perfection of touching him, being allowed to pat his shoulder, hug him, with rude porn fantasies. Or something stupid but true like that. He's so relentless in his purity. 

I'm not a romantic guy, nothing like that, hell, I think about fucking just about anyone and everyone else. But touching Frase... my chest kind of aches and my fingers twitch and my mouth waters when he's near but I never let myself imagine. Him. Defiled. 

But now... there he is. And there SHE is and I really hate the bitch but I can't say anything because I can't breath. The papers I am holding fall to the floor. And it isn't the way he's kneeling behind her with his hand between her legs. Or the way she is on her hands and knees thrusting her ass up at him and moaning. It isn't the way he's wearing all black from the raid and his pants are open and loose on his hips, his shirt pushed up around his belly and chest. It's not the way his cock thrusts into her thigh, seeking warmth that corrupts the perfection of his purity in my heart. 

It's the expression of pure, animal lust on his beautiful, flushed face. 

And it's the fear and guilt that transform it when he, suddenly aware of an observer, looks over towards the open door where I stand, man of stone. Looking at my true love ready to fuck my ex-true-love and he's so, so incredibly hot and sexy in his lust but turning me to ice. My ex-wife, Stella, turns her head when he freezes and she gasps, stricken. Her eyes are hand-in-the-cookie-jar eyes, they are oh, shit, he-caught-us-and-now-I'm-never-going-to-get-any-from-his-god-like-partner eyes. They are I'm-so-sorry-but-only-because-you-caught-me-eyes. I don't know what his eyes are now because I can't see him anymore. 

I'm going to move, now, I'm going to leave, and keep leaving until I'm very, very far away from Chicago and stupid, stupid ideas of purity. 

I'm never going to fucking think about Fraser again. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

A number of possible courses of action occur to me as we three form a glacially still tableau. 

Stay silent, get dressed. Stay still, ask him to leave until we can get dressed and talk about this. I think crying is not a good idea although it is very tempting. Rush half-naked to him and grab him and hold him to me until he HAS to forgive me or be suffocated. Run screaming into the bathroom and break all the mirrors. Run screaming to the balcony of Stella's apartment and jump. 

Instead I do nothing, just remain frozen while I watch Ray leaving me inside until he can break the spell and leave me for real, for certain, for ever. I realize I have never seen Ray still before, never, at least his eyes are always moving. Now they are shock-still like the rest of him but his soul is moving inward, away, away from me. Away from me. 

**XXXXXXXX**

Benton Fraser has a habit of giving out too much information at times. Other times he will give out none at all unless it is completely inane. He is stubborn and too large to be forced into very many things, no matter how good for him they may be. Stella wants to talk to him after Ray leaves. He is infuriatingly polite, enough to set her teeth on edge. He thanks her kindly for her hospitality, and is out the door with a (polite) smile and a nod. Her color has faded and he needs to get to a cool place and think. 

Diefenbaker is acting like somebody died when he gets home. He wonders if the dead person is himself. He could call his partner. But he won't. What can he say? 

"I was trying to find a way to keep you?" Definitely will not do. 

Maybe if Ray is gone the feeling of being out of control will fade, and the feeling will seem less desirable over time. He would castigate himself over his actions but the error goes without saying and pointless guilt is a waste of time. No, he is in enough pain to distract him already. 

He only realizes he is weeping when Dief licks his face. 

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Fuck, I can't stop thinking about Fraser. My Fraser, the one I had before his evil twin stepped in and fucked my wife. You see, Fraser is so damn good, and sweet, and kind. Beautiful enough, strong enough, smart enough to really fuck you up if he wants, to have power over you. But just so brave and true and GOOD, really, really good. So you know he would never do anything to hurt you if he could help it, unless it was to help you or protect you. Except fuck your ex-wife. Except win your trust and your right hand and the core of your ambition and rip them all away from you with one act of passion. Except break your heart. 

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

Ray, he tells himself. Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray. Ray. He remembers how happy Ray was this morning, how red his lips were. Is this being in love? He seems to have accidentally misplaced a significant portion of his solar-plexus in Ray's body, and now he swears he can feel it, still connected to him, tearing at his insides as Ray moves farther along on his inexorable pull out of orbit. Dief looks sadly at him and sighs. 

He picks up the phone, not knowing who he is going to call. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

End Part One. 

TITLE: Icarus 2/3  
AUTHOR: Cipher Muse  
**RATING: PG-13**  
EMAIL/FEEDBACK: / Please. All I can get. SPOILERS: None  
**KEYWORDS: F/K**  
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me, I only rent them for free to perform these dazzling tricks. Please don't sue me. ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just let me know.  
SUMMARY: Some sort of resolution has to occur. Authors Notes: I am so inspired by Te. Te, I've never spoken to you, but you live in my heart. Everyone, this is my first ever attempt at slash fiction. Please be gentle with me. 

8/15/00  
Icarus Part Two 

I'm standing at the bus station, and thinking about the ticket in my hand. One small slip of paper, destiny awaits. I'm gonna lie on a beach in Florida, I'll tan and burn and the sun will bake all pain from my soggy soul. Beautiful women will display their sleek bodies like seals before me, the fierce shark. I'll wear hideous neon clothing and still melt into a crowd at will. Fuck yeah. 

And Fraser will find me. No matter what, the man will find me. Sure as wind in Chicago. Bastard's a wolf, and I'm his pack. I know it, I hate it, I want to run, ride, swim, fly, sail away, but I know it. And he will humiliate me, make me explain, argue with me. The women on the beach will turn from me to stare at him, and I will be no more a shark, but prey. Just the thought turns my fantasy to shit. I am too tired now to ride this bus, the bus pulling up before me. I will not run. Instead I will hide in the best possible place, plain sight. My own city that I borrowed from Vecchio, my apartment that I rent. I walk, although it's a long-ass way home. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

In the end Ben calls no-one. Just sits, on the floor with his back against the wall and Diefenbaker practically in his lap, his arms tight around the unprotesting animal. Dief's soft fur is an interface with the normal world. From long practice, he stills his restless thoughts and begins the process of bringing order to his situation. He will start by naming events in a time-ordered list. Then he will select desirable outcomes. Finally, he will diagram possible methods to effect his chosen solution, and last he will pick the best action plan and begin to fix... this. This terrible thing. This betrayal. This... thing. 

The first part of the process takes longer than he expects. His muscles are stiff, his extremities cold, and the sun is coming in stabbing red-gold shafts through the apartment windows when he finds a name for what he has done. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

Not terribly surprising, that Ray Kowalski should end up in a bar, feeling sorry for himself. He has made his attempt to run, and failed. Leaving was never his forte; he had even failed at being left. If he considered himself a clean-living man, he would be jogging, talking to a close friend, even punching a bag at the gym. But the kick to the gut he took today has spun him off kilter, his normal nervous energy shooting out in undirected spirals. His head pounds, his throat aches, his heart hurts. He can't focus enough to let rage hold down the pain. So he is drinking whiskey at eight in the morning on a work day, and waiting for the numbing effects to allow him to begin the process of blaming. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

Fraser is jogging. He thinks more clearly when the cool winter air slides the dust off his mind. Today, though, his legs feel wobbly and his stomach keeps fluttering, even as the flush of strength and blood rises through his body's tributaries. The words for his act of the night before are drilling themselves into his vulnerable mind. 

Disloyalty. Betrayal. Carelessness. Unfaithfulness. Infidelity. 

Infidelity. Because he only really wants to make love to one person. Because he's always wanted a committed relationship with that one special love of his life. His wife, he'd always thought. Only now he knows things are getting complicated. And there's been something special, some special unspoken, unconscious agreement happening, something growing. And he's broken it. He still can't bring himself to call this thing what it is, but his heart is pounding and when he thinks of Ray there is a terrible bright swelling alongside the pain in his chest. Because maybe it's still there; and because maybe it's gone forever. 

When he spoke to Stella about Ray, she had been so... understanding. About how frustrating Ray could be, how prickly, how impulsive. She had shared stories of a young Stan Kowalski that made his throat ache. She was so... blonde, and slim, and wiry, like Ray. She had touched Ray intimately, made love to him. The thought had taken his breath away. As they spoke, he saw something else; she looked at him the Ray sometimes did. As if she was hungry. He saw her smooth skin, that his partner had seen, touched. Was this what it felt like to be Ray? He was quivering with the need to know, and she was so golden. When she leaned into him and kissed him, he had been impulsive, wild. Like... But he had decided this would cure him. Maybe this would purge the dangerous currents from his blood. 

Now he was afraid nothing ever would. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

"Ya ever know someone so beautiful it just freakin' hurts to look at 'em?" 

Kowalski's vocabulary is not improving from his third whiskey and soda, hold the soda. The bartender doesn't seem to mind. She is used to this effect of her wares. Besides, this particular drunk is... interesting. 

'I mean, not pretty, ya know? I mean like, movie star, no, more, like a hero from a story or something. Some, like Luke Skywalker, only better. Hell, ya know what I mean. James Dean, only nice and good and stuff. So nice that you don't even care about how beautiful they are, only about them, ya know? This isn't making sense, 's it. Sorry." 

The bartender is a little taken aback by the realization that the intriguingly rough man in front of her is not breaking his heart over a woman. He looks so... straight. She catches herself and laughs gently. He assumes she's laughing at him and pulls back, face going a bit surly. 

She leans forward to reassure him, when she sees something over his shoulder that drives the thought from her mind. In the doorway of the bar is one of the most classically handsome men she has ever seen. He is casually dressed in blue jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, but Armani on another man wouldn't be close to as impressive. He is tall and has thick black hair, large blue eyes and the features of a.... movie star.... his bearing is certain, lithe, confident...this couldn't be... the blonde man's reason. 

The vision's eyes go straight to the wiry man assiduously getting himself drunk at her bar. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

I think it must have been the first time I was ever glad to see someone who was this angry with me. He is probably going to try to punch me, but I don't mind, not as long as I know he is still here, that he hasn't left me yet. The bartender is looking at me strangely, as if she recognizes me though I've never met her before. Ray is bent over a glass full of something amber with a token piece of ice floating in it. He hasn't seen me; I wish I knew what to say. 

He looks... broken. All hunched over and his words are slurring. I hesitate a moment, but even like this, drunk and exhausted, he pulls me toward him. I can just catch what he is saying, as I slowly walk over to the bar. He isn't making much sense. Something about beauty being only skin deep; he must be talking about Stella. Is he still in love with her? The idea makes me very angry. 

The bartender taps his shoulder and points to me. When he looks up, his eyes cut me like broken glass. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

I can't believe friggin' Fraser the fuckin' freak is in a bar. God, he looks so good. No wonder Stella went for him, he's gorgeous and what a bastard he is to come bothering me before I've worked up a proper rage. If I start crying in front of him I will have to kill him. 

"What the hell do ya want, Fraser?" Good, I sound mean, not wimpy. 

He looks at me with this sort of Mountie wholesome advice kind of look that helps a lot with the rage thing. His tone, though, is soft and hurts to hear. 

"I want to talk to you, Ray. Will you walk with me?" 

Suddenly my heart is hammering and my blood is pounding in my ears, I can't breathe and I want to run. He's going to tell me he and Stella are together now and he and I can't be partners. The glass I am holding is not perfectly formed. It has a few bubbles of air in it near the bottom. I know I was planning on bailing on him but this is just killing me. I think I will remember the shape of this glass the rest of my life. I have to stop him before he says anything gentle or considerate. Why did I think them fucking was a one-time event? They're both beautiful, brilliant; perfect. I jump up and get in his face, hoping I look angry instead of scared. 

"I am going home. You just leave me the hell alone. You don't want to be partners, you want to screw my wife, you do it on your own time. Don't fuckin' come botherin' me about it! " 

I don't stop to see his reaction, just throw some money on the bar and get out of there quickly. I am not surprised to see him following me out, but I strike a quick pace and ignore him, hoping he'll get the hint. He doesn't, though, and as I move into the park to cut across toward home, I turn and glare at him. 

"Go AWAY, Fraser. I don't wanna hear it." 

"You don't want to hear what, Ray? You don't know what I want to say." 

How can one man be so aggravating? 

" I just want to be alone, Fraser. Get it? Just go away and leave me alone. I know everything you have to say, and I don't want to hear it." My voice cracks a little on this one, but hopefully he didn't notice. 

He is still speaking softly, I wish he wouldn't. 

"Fine, Ray. I will leave, if you promise to meet me here after I get off work today and talk. Five o'clock, OK?" 

I'd say anything to get him away from me right now. I nod, and he's gone. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

I didn't really expect him to be here. It's been snowing most of the day, and the temperatures are well below freezing. But he's sitting there on the bench, with the sun setting behind his head giving him a red-gold halo that suits him surprisingly well. He is the source of all the warmth and vitality in my life. It's right he should shine. 

But... he isn't sitting in his normal posture, spreading out and taking up space. His confident slouch is missing and now his knees are drawn in, his head hanging heavily on his shoulders, his hands hanging limply at his sides. 

He looks up at me as I walk toward him and abruptly he is reanimated. His eyes burn a cold blue and he is up, on the balls of his feet though he keeps his head back as if he expects a blow. 

"This isn't a good idea, Frase. I-" 

I cut off his rasping words with the first thing that comes to mind. I know I need to find a way to break through to him.This isn't going to be easy. 

"That's right, you know everything I'm going to say." 

He just glares at me. We eye each other for a long time. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

Tension radiates in stifling waves, cycling between them. 

Fraser finally breaks the silence. 

"What if I surprised you?" 

Kowalski's voice is grating and sore. "Not a single damn thing you'd do could surprise me now, Fraser." 

There is a moment of perfect stillness and then 

"Fuck you, Kowalski," says Fraser with deep-toned clarity. 

Ray's eyes widen like a child's and he bursts into tears. 

And Fraser grasps his shoulders and plasters his mouth on those soft, parted lips, cutting off the howling sobs emerging from Ray's throat. And where he touches his partner his skin is humming, spirals of electric pulsation spinning over and through him. And he's growling deep in his throat like a wolf and Ray, Ray is gasping and moaning and trying to climb into him, up him like he is a tree. They are on the ground, rolling in the snow which flies up in white waves or particles or maybe just pure light. It is perfection, and he knows now why he was born. 

Then Ray chokes out another sob around his kisses and rolls away, leaps up shaking all over and with huge eyes reflecting the gold of the lamps being lighted in the darkening park. He looks beyond beautiful, dusted with glistening snowflakes and flush-faced, glowing. His pupils overwhelm the blue in his eyes and his voice sounds stunned and childlike when he speaks, softly. 

"What the fuck was that Fraser." 

There is silence for a moment while Fraser stands and tries to clear his head. Ray doesn't move, he is in shock. 

"Fraser... are you messing with my head? Is this some freaky kind of... what the hell is this man!" His voice is gaining in strength and pitch. His shaking intensifies and the flush on his face is turning to anger. 

"You suck, Benton Fraser Mountie effing hero. I loved you, you know that? I loved you more than anything I've ever loved in my life. I thought you were the best, the most perfect man and now I friggin' hate you because you are a big, stupid fake-" 

Fraser has climbed to his feet and is approaching Ray, hands out beseechingly, eyes haunted. 

His voice quivers with sincerity and pain as he cuts into Ray's rising tirade. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Ray. I care so much about-"Just as Benton tries to touch him, Kowalski jumps forward and pushes him hard in the chest. The string of obscenities coming from his lips are hard to distinguish, coming so close together. When Fraser merely regains his balance and reaches for him again, Kowalski cocks an arm back and lets fly with a roundhouse to Fraser's jaw that connects with a solid crack and drops the larger man flat on his back into the snow. In a moment Ray is on top of him, sitting on his thighs and pummeling him in the belly and face and chest, wild blows of hysterical rage. 

Ben tries to cut through his tirade and catch Ray's arms but both Fraser's words and his struggles are currently ineffective. A particularly solid blow to the temple catches him unprepared and his head lolls, his eyes rolling back and his body going limp. The change takes a moment to register with Kowalski but when it does he freezes into deathly stillness. 

"Oh shit... Fraser." His voice is shaky now with fear. 

"Fraser. Fuck, man, are you OK? Talk to me, Fraser, you're scaring me!" He sags with relief when the Mountie's eyes open slightly to focus on him. 

"What would you like me to say, Ray?" 

A dozen answers to that question fly through his mind. Tell me you're sorry. Tell me you meant it when you kissed me. Promise you'll never, never hurt me again. Tell me you're OK, that I didn't hurt you just now. Tell me you'll let me love you. That you want me, like I want you. That you'll never leave me. 

And Ben is under him, looking up with his dazed eyes shining like stars, and the moon has come out and it is incredibly cold. And Stanley Ray Kowalski is really in love this time. And it doesn't matter what Ben did, or what he will do. Because something warm in his heart is welling up, frothing over. This isn't about anything but the fact that he knows, deep down, this moment can't last. 

He whispers so softly, Ben can barely hear him. 

"I'd like you to tell me you love me, Ben." 

Ben just looks at him and then 

"Ray." His words are resonant with longing. "I love you. " And Fraser's eyes are silver in the moonlight and Ray's knees are aching and maybe, just maybe, eternity is made up of moments that can't last. 

**XXXXXXXXX**

End Part Two 

TITLE: Icarus 3/3  
AUTHOR: Cipher Muse  
**RATING: NC-17**  
EMAIL/FEEDBACK: / Please. All I can get. SPOILERS: None really.  
**KEYWORDS: F/K**  
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me, I only rent them for free to perform these dazzling tricks. Please don't sue me. ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just let me know.  
SUMMARY: Love and fear and what's in between. Authors Notes: I am so inspired by Te. Te, I've never spoken to you, but you live in my heart. Everyone, this is my first ever attempt at slash fiction. Please be gentle with me. 

9/9/00  
Icarus Part Three 

It took me a long time to decide if Ray was really good-looking or not. He is always moving, you see. Quicksilver, quick flash, momentary image of beauty like a sunbeam hitting at just the right angle, but when you turn to look the moment has passed and the sunlight has moved on. I tried so hard to pin him down when he claimed to be my first Ray. I stared, I questioned, but he wouldn't stop moving. You'd think that now, after we've... been together... he'd be still finally. And he is... for a few seconds. Maybe I can finally get my balance with him, get it all under control. 

But no. He rolls around in bed, he smiles, he wiggles. He grabs me, he climbs on top, he pulls me over him. I suppose he must have slept, but I was sleeping too. I still don't get a chance to study him. Even the color of his eyes is constantly changing. Green, blue, yellow flashes sparking sunshine at me. He spins off sudden images; tawny hip, dark-shadowed jaw, dangerous smile. They all entrance me. I want to focus on each one as it is revealed, but he moves again. I covet the sight of him, I crave to hold him down and stop his restless movement. Is this the same urge that makes some men chloroform butterflies? 

I am so afraid my desire for Ray is going to destroy him. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
We made love last night. It all flew by me in a haze of forgiveness and lust. There was a kind of glow over everything, 'specially Ben's face. It made me think of old movies where Ingrid Bergman's face gets all fuzzy and kind of shines when Bogie looks at her. The "in love" fuzz. I guess I'm in love because Ben's got the fuzz face thing goin'. 

He's really good at sex. Hell, I shouldn't be surprised because he's good at everything. Every time he touched me I almost flew out of my skin. I think he could have just breathed on me and made me scream his name. Instead he broke out this... technique... that makes me wonder if he's done this with guys before. I don't want to go there, though, I don't wanna think about him bein' with anyone else. 

I'm still hurt about him and Stella. After he made me come again I cried for a long time. He just held me and said things like 'it's okay' and 'everything's gonna be alright'. He stroked my hair. We slept and fooled around and slept some more 'til now it's nearly morning, and I had this terrible nightmare about them and woke up shaking. I dreamed Fraser and Stella were both aliens from some kind of planet of perfect people, like Hollywood Mars or something. They were laughing at me as they revealed their true identities, and I realized they were both so far beyond me that my loving them was a joke. In the dream I wasn't surprised about Stella, but I was heartbroken about Ben. 

I think he's confused, maybe even more confused than I am. He's sleeping now and I'm just leaning over him and can't look away. Even in sleep he's mumbling my name and has this anxious crease between his eyebrows unless I keep strokin' his chest. His skin is so soft. 

He tried to explain how the whole thing with Stella happened after I finally stopped crying. It didn't make much sense to me. Somethin' about how she seemed kind of like me and kind of like a way to stop wanting me all at the same time. It hurts that he would be so bothered about having feelings for me. He said something about me being the same color as Stella only more beautiful that left me even more confused than before. I guess he realized that, because he finally shut up and sucked me off. 

I couldn't really stay mad at him after that. He's amazing at blow jobs. Of course. Just seein' his beautiful pink lips wrapped around me... I'm gettin' hard just thinking about it. The best part is how much he gets into it. I feel like I'm on an altar or something when he looks up at me with his heart in his eyes. And he makes these little sounds... I think I'm gonna wake him up. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
In his dream, Ben is running. Down a long, blue-white slope of ice. The ice is slippery, but he can keep his balance if he keeps moving at exactly the same trajectory as he is currently on. Any attempt to stop or turn, however, will send him careening down the slope and off the cliff at it's bottom. Overhead is a sky heavy and grey with coming snow. Far below him, near the cliff, is a small flat place with a tiny hut standing sturdily on it. Ray is inside, he knows. If he can keep moving just this way, perfectly balanced, flawless, Ben can reach him. 

And the storm begins, lightning flashes blinding him before the thunder shakes the ice beneath his feet. He focusses, focusses, tries to remain steady and keep his stride. Snow whirls in small cyclones from the sky, obscuring the shelter he's seeking. He balances, balances, strives, tries harder... 

And slips.... 

Rolling.. sliding... down and down and to the edge and 

Over. Down. Falling... 

He cries out, heart in his throat. 

"Ray!" 

And there is a hand on his chest, circling, smoothing. He is lying in his bed, and the eyes looking into his are clear blue and calm, if a little reddened from weeping. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
Ray smiles at Ben as black eyelashes flutter, pale lids blink to reveal blue. He continues to smooth his hand in gentle sweeping circles around Ben's heart. 

"Hey. You Okay? Bad dream?" Ray's words burr with his lack of sleep, his jaw is darkened by growth. His lips are swollen and red from earlier kisses. 

Hoarse, serrated, Fraser's voice cuts at the gentleness. 

"Ray, I just... I want you to stay with me. I don't want you to leave when Ray Vecchio comes back." 

His partner's eyes lose some of their sleepy slitted quality. 

"Ya mean ya wanna live with me, Frase?" Dead monotone spoiled by a squeak at the end. 

"I- I don't know what to do, Ray. I just want to be with you. I've never felt this way about a man... about anyone before." Blue eyes wide, Ben's trembling lips form the words that expose him, reveal his inexperience. "Have you ever...done... this, with a man before?" 

"No, but ya know, I've thought about it. I think about a lot of people that way. Just about everything's sex to me, Frase. I'm polyamorphous or somethin'." Ray's grin shows an ironic dimple. It soothes Ben, he feels more himself again. 

"Do you mean you are polyamorous, Ray?" Which is natural enough, supposes Fraser, since Ray radiates sexuality the way the sun radiates light, heedlessly and unconsciously in every direction. 

"Whatever, yeah. But not you, of course, I mean I always... you're my friend, I didn't- I wouldn't've wanted you to... Well, ya know." 

"Know what, Ray?" 

"You're...special to me, Ben. It's not just sex, I love you." 

"Then you'll stay?" He tries to keep his voice light. 

Ray is not smiling anymore, instead there is the movement of his throat as he swallows. 

"Let's just say I'm not goin' anywhere you're not at any time soon, Frase. We gotta get used ta this before we... get married or somethin'" 

Which makes sense to Ben, though he needs to mark Ray. Open hand, strong fingers begin to trail totem symbols on Ray's smooth golden skin. Eagle, Salmon, Beaver. Bear, Caribou. Wolf. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
Then there are more kisses, open-mouthed and liquid, melting, merging into deep-throated moans of pleasure and desire. And there is simmering, seething lust that grips the back of his throat and his balls and he wants Ray naked and open and slick with sweat, writhing now and squirming and (don't ever stop) moving under him. Ray is incandescent and gleaming with responsive sweat and pleasure, yielding his mouth and throat eagerly to Ben's compulsive tasting. Fraser uses his tongue to map Ray's body and lay claim to it. 

He knows what he wants now and Ray knows it too. Ray is on his belly moaning and lifting his hips. It shouldn't be this easy, the first time. It is, though. He smells snow, and pine sap, and he knows deep in his bones how to show his relationship to Ray beyond question. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
I knew he was a freakin' wolf. He is almost howling now, on top of me and heavy and gorgeous. I can feel his growls as a buzz against the back of my neck as he presses me to the mattress. He must have found the massage oil next to the bed because his fingers are slick with it when they slide into my ass and... ohhh... isn't this supposed to hurt? But it doesn't, not at all, oh no, oh it feels so good... Even better when he pulls his fingers out and before I can protest the loss... 

OH yes, please, I want to submit to him, he is incredible inside me. I can't press up against him hard enough and I need MORE... But he understands and soon he's just pounding into me, thrust and gasp and withdraw and moan and hard, deep... 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
Ray is incredible, all heat and light and if I don't burn up I'm going to heaven. I can't get enough of him, the sight and sound, the smell and the taste. I want to lick him all over, and I do. Somehow, I've found the proof of him, what he is to me. The evidence, here, and here, inside his mouth, just behind his knee. The taste of arrogance, and insecurity. Nerves and need and the scent of an animal that I can find and fuck and make him mine. My mate. 

Afterwards and we're lying together floating and grinning at each other and he's really only moving around a little. Amazing. And just as usual I could never have predicted the words that come from that lovely red mouth. 

"Did'ja ever see Superman when you were a kid, Frase?" 

"Why yes, Ray, I did." It's hard to keep a little smugness out of my voice. He sounds so... relaxed. 

"The one with Christopher Reeves?" 

"That would be the one, Ray." 

"Well, you look like him. A lot." 

"Why, thank you kindly, Ray." 

"Too bad ya can't fly." 

"I think I'm flying now, Ray." 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
The morning is coming slowly, pale blue light of predawn seeping through the gaps in the curtains of Ray's bedroom. An apartment at the Canadian Consulate houses a animal who wonders when he is going to get his walk. He's confused... Dief can't remember Fraser ever forgetting before. 

The snow has been falling all through the evening, and the people of Chicago are slow to begin the day. Traffic is a trickle instead of the usual flood. The chill in the air makes white smoke out of the breath of early morning joggers. The sidewalks have an innocent look under still-white snow. Curled together in Ray's bed, Benton Fraser and Stanley Ray Kowalski wrap around each other to ward off the coming exposure to daylight. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
I wish I could see more clearly into the future. I want to plan things so that I can make everything right for him. There must be a way to keep things this good from ending. Whatever it is Ray and I have, I know I will always want to be with him. But I fear my own ignorance. And I am a little overwhelmed. 

This, all of this, his eyes and skin glowing, for me, because of me and his murmured words of love and contentment; it's almost too much. Was I ever a creature of grace enough to withstand Ray's open radiance? It is so much more than I deserve. I have already wounded him. But I am so happy, too. The joy is so intense in me it's a physical pain. My heart's desire is real in the world now, where others can influence it. It is real for me, it is no longer safely tucked away within me. I am floating with him, high in the warm heaven of his love. But should he drop me I don't know if I could survive the fall. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
Through all of this I know the real world is still waiting for us, out there. Ben and me will have to face people who wouldn't understand, who could make it pretty hard on us. And all the time it's hanging over our heads; Vecchio's coming back, and I have to give unto him what is his. There's so much we have to get straight. I know Ben never planned on falling in love with a guy. I sure as hell didn't. Stella and me were supposed to have the 2.4 and the dog an' all. It's better with him, though, than it ever was with her or anyone else. 

I want to believe there's a happy ever after waiting on us, and I'm closer to believing in that than I've ever been in my life. I'm like the Grinch in the kid's show and my heart has grown, expanding until my chest can hardly hold it. I'm happy now, but at the core of me there's this fear. It's too good, it's too much, I'm not worthy. 

See, I can't stop thinkin' that it's just, 

I'm flyin' too close to the sun. 

The End? 


End file.
